


Kyuubi no Yoru (Night of Nine Tails)

by amhrancas



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, old fic is old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-23
Updated: 2011-06-23
Packaged: 2018-10-16 06:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10565763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amhrancas/pseuds/amhrancas
Summary: In the past, during times of stress, famine, or need the people of Japan would turn to the spirits and Gods for intercession and guidance. These days while the traditions are still honored they often amount to little more than lip service, something which Yokoyama You has become more than aware of over the years. This doesn't, however, mean that the devout and believers no longer exist, their supplications and pleas for help and justice still coming in on a regular basis at Inari Enterprises and making for an even more active life for the kitsune and others like them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the 2011 je_otherworlds exchange. Extra special thanks to track_04 for beta-ing this last minute for me x3 and to the rest of the tacos and friends, you all really are what keeps me sane.
> 
> This draws somewhat heavily from Japanese mythology and lore, but a basic familiarity with kitsune and tanuki legends should be enough to follow along. A 九尾の狐 (kyuubi no kitsune) is a white or gold-furred kitsune over the age of 1000 years, who has attained their nine tails. Inari (O-Inari) is the Shinto diety of rice, business, agriculture, foxes, and fertility. Kitsune are attributed as being the guardians and messengers of Inari. Both kitsune and tanuki are known as mischief makers and deliverers of divine vengeance/comeuppance.

It was hot, already more so than normal for June, the weather forecasters predicting that this summer would most likely see a number of records on the temperature scale before any relief was seen. Lying in bed, very much lamenting the fact that the sun cascading in through his window was already making the room too bright and the covers too uncomfortably warm to stay under, Yoko pulled the blankets up over his head as he rolled to face away from the window, desperately trying to reclaim the fragments of interrupted dreams before finally giving up and flinging the blankets off of him while glaring back and forth from his East-facing window to his alarm clock as the blurry red LED display came into focus.

 

_6:17 am_.  
  
Eight minutes _before_ his alarm was set to go off. Eight minutes before the coffee pot would even begin its automatic brew cycle. A low, pathetic whine filled the room as these realizations sank in and Yoko glared one last time at the rising sun outside his window, silently demanding his stolen eight minutes of sleep be returned. “One of these days,” he muttered as he hauled himself out of bed and stumbled to the shower, “you and I are gonna have a nice chat about respecting the sanctity of an alarm schedule, Ama-neechan.”  
  


***  
 

Yoko was down the escalator and out the door by 7:30 on the dot, casually heading down the street towards the station, starch from his collar already prickling against his skin in the early morning humidity. He could always drive himself in or have one of the company drivers pick him up for work, but there was something to be said for riding the trains in with everyone else, just another anonymous face among the millions of others making their daily progression from one part of Osaka to another. Yoko made his way to the back of the train car, effortlessly navigating the mass of passengers riding along with him before settling on a spot close to the wall, coffee in hand and headphones in place. While some of his kind still living in isolation up in the north country and in the mountains would sneer at him and derisively shoot the word _domesticated_ at him, Yoko had absolutely no qualms about admitting that he was just that. Sure he could run off and survive in the forests just as easily as he had two hundred years ago, but when you had things like espresso, a 16th story balcony view of the city, and Monhan, who in their right mind would _want_ to? And so for now, he was back where he had started over twelve centuries ago. It seemed that no matter where life or work took him, he always found his way back to the low plains of Osaka, after all—nothing really fit him like it did, it was home. Why should he abandon it simply because a couple million humans had decided to call it home, too?  
  


 

Disembarking the train at Higashi-Umeda, Yoko moved with the flow of bodies out of the station before falling in with the group heading off in the direction of his office building. Inari Enterprises was housed in a nondescript building which blended seamlessly into the urban center’s surroundings. While the name suggested the possibility otherwise, no one walking by would ever imagine that the company’s running had anything to do with the realm of the supernatural and the Gods who oversaw their daily lives.  
  


 

Thinking back, Yoko couldn’t really remember what it was that made him accept the job at the Tamatsukuri sub-station in the first place. Maybe it was the idea of something with a little more stability than the freelance kitsune market had offered at the time. Maybe it was the assurance that he and his family would never have to go hungry again; after all, when you’re working directly for the God of rice, drought and famine cease to impact you. Or maybe it was that after meeting face-to-face with his prospective boss, Yoko felt an older-brother-like affinity to the awkward and shy deity. “You can just call me ‘Ryo’ though,” he’d said, obviously busying himself shuffling through Yoko’s paperwork. “I’m really not all that comfortable with all that pomp and whatnot.”  
  


 

It wasn’t that the job had been a means to an end, or an act of desperation. It certainly hadn’t been his dream job or anything that he’d aspired to be either. It had simply been the path which had opened up at the time, and never being one to quit or turn away, Yoko had accepted it and persevered, working his way up to one of Inari’s top positions. The fact that he had all the leeway he’d like in terms of creativity and how he spent both his free time _and_ time on the clock certainly didn’t hurt. He had even been more than willing to overlook the god-awful red cravats he had had to wear for meetings and business calls during his earlier days. Fortunately, given their increased presence in the human realm and the accompanying need to take on human form, today’s dress codes allowed for a substitution of a red necktie and suit—a swap Yoko was more than happy to both work with and abuse, today’s “suit” consisting of jeans and sneakers in lieu of dress slacks and loafers.  
  


***  
 

“Good morning, Yokoyama-kun!” The alert voice of his assistant rang out as Yoko entered his office. “Care for some more coffee? It should be ready in a couple of minutes.”  
  


 

Yoko waved off the offer for now, heading to his desk and flipping through the messages stacked neatly in the center of his blotter. “Morning Bun-chan, anything new for me today?”  
  


 

“Not yet, although we just got the progress reports in from our new representative at the Shiseido offices, if you get bored and want something entertaining to read.”  
  


 

“Oh yeah? How _is_ Yasu doing over there? Run into any hot models yet?” Yoko settled back into his chair, more than willing to catch up on his friend’s exploits out in Tokyo, instead to be interrupted by his phone line ringing.  
  


 

“Inari Enterprises, Office of Uka-no-mi-tama-no-mikoto, Department of Relocation, Reclamation, and Requital. Yokoyama speaking.”  
  
“You forgot the ‘Miketsu-no-Kami’ part, you know,” Ryo chided on the other end of the line.  
  
“Whatever happened to your cute little embarrassed ‘Just call me ‘Ryo’~?”  
  
“Four hundred years of putting up with your whining and absentmindedness?” Ryo dryly offered. “I need you to come up to my office. We’ve got a new assignment for you if you can pick it up.” Yoko could tell already from the hints of exasperation in his voice that this was could possibly wind up being an assignment he’d regret taking; not that he’d ever actually turned down a job request from Ryo. “Sure, I’ll be up there in a minute.” Eyeing his now empty travel mug as he hung up the phone, Yoko decided that maybe another cup was in order after all.  
  


***  
 

From the looks of things, Ryo had made an early start to his work day, assuming he had even gone home the night before— his hair was already mussed from running his hands through it too many times, tie long-since discarded on the back of his chair along with his jacket. He presently stood over by the fax machine, reading through each page as it came across.  
  
Why Ryo insisted on going around in the form of a skinny man all the time when he could have been a hot chick was beyond him. He’d completely shot down Yoko’s pitch last year about how it would greatly improve both worker morale and productivity having a hot, busty nubile young woman overseeing their progress reports and quarterly budget meetings, instead quipping back that the female workers seemed to like his present form just fine, and Ryo would much rather have happy female employees over mindless and distracted males any day.  
  
“Ryo, have you gotten _any_ sleep this week at all?”  
  
Ryo jolted, suddenly aware of Yoko’s presence, and slumped down in his chair, laughing a little. “Well, it’s not as though I actually _need_ it, unlike some of you guys.”  
  
“Right.” Yoko conceded as he sat down opposite Ryo’s desk, flipping open the manila folder Ryo slid across to him and looking at the photograph clipped to the inside cover. “So, what’s the story with this new job?"  
  
“Inoue Manabu, of the Inoue merchant family. The family has been involved in the Osaka business world for centuries, and they’ve recently secured a solid foothold in the political one as well, making them one of the more powerful families in modern Japan. Manabu here is the family’s second son, born in 1977 to his father’s first wife, Akiko. His mother passed away a few years later, not that it seemed to have had all that much of an impact on Manabu or his older brother, as they were primarily raised by their nanny staff. In middle school he fell in with a delinquent crowd, leading to his step mother and father sending him a private school in Germany, which he then followed up with university and studying business at Leipzig."    
  
A grinding sound coming from the fax machine interrupted Ryo, as it proceeded to eat what looked to be half a ream of paper before shuddering to a halt and issuing a sharp warning beep.  Ryo rolled his chair over to the machine and proceeded to yank the sheets out, all the while grumbling curses at it about how useless all this technology was before finally giving up and delivering a solid smack to its side.  
  
"Yoko! Fix this piece of crap for me."  
  
"Sorry, man. You know it's everything short of a miracle that I can turn my computer on in the morning without wiping the hard drive."  
  
Casting one last glare at the pile of mangled paper from the fax Ryo gave up and rolled back over to his desk, grabbing the phone and barking a request for tech support at the unfortunate being on the other end before slamming the unit back in its cradle.   Leaning back in his chair he sighed and ran his hands back through his hair.  
  
"Where was I, again?"  
  
"Leipzig," Yoko offered.  
  
"Right. So, after his graduation Inoue returned to Osaka and worked with his family until four years ago, when he set up his own exchange and import offices. He’s hired on a number of his old friends from his younger days in Japan, who he kept in touch with while abroad. Apparently these employees have a number of ties in the Yakuza, and Inoue has held no qualms with adopting some of their more unsavory practices while forging some profitable, high-level connections in the Yakuza world. It seems that his family has opted to turn a blind eye to these dealings as they’ve collected several major law and governmental officials into their debt during their ventures into politics, only adding to Inoue’s overinflated sense of importance and invulnerability.”  
  
“Which,” Yoko chimed in, “makes him a perfect candidate for our services.”  
  
“Exactly.” Ryo continued, “Our business with him comes out of a loan shark ring he’s been running for several years now under the guise of a legitimate loan business. This is also where Maruyama gets involved. We received a number of requests for intercession over the past few years and had started an investigation into Inoue. However, we were unable to fully discern the manner in which he was running the scams and avoiding legal investigation or the extent to which his network reached. He’s got a pretty tight network set up over there and it’s downright impenetrable from outside.  
  
“Meanwhile, Maruyama set himself up in Osaka to be used as a mark by Inoue. Apparently some of his friends had been caught in a related scam and hired him to assist them. The company offers high-interest loans to people who are in dire situations, agreeing to an off-the-books one-time disbursement of funds, after which the recipient makes a series of payments back to the company by way of a series of brokers—never dealing with the same people twice after the initial loan agreement. In the end, all of the paperwork confirming the original terms and payment schedule is held solely by Inoue himself, who then has his enforcers claim that only a fraction of the debt has been repaid and proceeds to strip the debtor of everything through a number of routes—repossession, foreclose on their houses, selling of children to the Yakuza markets, or indentured labor, as is the case with Maruyama. Unfortunately, Inoue’s ties to the Yakuza go deeper than the occasional venture in human trafficking, and with their support and backing his victims have little hope of successfully and safely seeking legal recourse."  
  
"Impressive."  Yoko picked up the second file and started skimming through the top report from Maruyama. "So how long has Maru been working on the case?"  
  
“A little over a year.  Using the ruse that he needed extra money to ‘pay the bills for his little sister’s heart surgery’, he allowed them to rope him into working as a runner and odd-jobs man for Inoue’s office for the past year. During this time he’s been able to get in good with a number of the higher-ups at the company, all the while gathering intelligence and building a solid case against them. This week he’s filling in as Inoue’s personal driver—allowing us the access we need to make our move and drag him down.”  
  
“Are we doing a standard bait and switch scenario for him?”  
  
“Yes. He has plans to be at a club in Kitashinchi tomorrow night where he has a private room reserved. You should be able to meet up with Maruyama to discuss the details of the set-up this afternoon at the Inoue family estate. It’s his sister’s birthday so the entire family will be gathering there; Maruyama will be assisting with the outside perimeter security detail for the duration of the party, allowing you the private access you’ll need.”  
  
“Sounds workable. Is there anything else I need to know about Inoue?”  
  
“Not much else. He’s your basic overly arrogant rich boy-- has a preference for Yoichi Scotch served neat, Mr. Children’s entire catalogue from the 90’s, oh-- and a particular weakness for pale, acquiescent Japanese girls with pouty lips and shy demeanors.” Ryo smirked at Yoko at the last line, enjoying all too well the play of emotions crossing his friend’s face as the words and their implications sank in.  
  
“Ryo--” Yoko started, tone a mix of warning and pleading as he geared himself up to stand his ground on this one.  
  
“And he really likes it if they wear kimono.” The flat stare Ryo delivered back at Yoko showed no signs of wavering under the other’s darkening frown. “A lot.”  
  
Yoko held his eyes and the two continued their stare-down for another minute before Yoko finally acquiesced with a drawn out sigh. “You’re a cruel god, Nishikido.”  
  
“Pshh. You haven’t suited up properly in years. Suck it up and save the whining, Yoko.” Ryo stood up from his chair and started packing up his laptop and loose paperwork from his desktop. “Now,” he continued as he finished stacking files neatly into his bag. “I’m going to be tied up at Fushimi this whole week for meetings. In fact,” Ryo glanced briefly at his watch before continuing, “my train leaves in about an hour. I know I can trust you with this, Yoko. You’ve handled some of Maruyama’s case reports before, so working with him shouldn’t be anything too out of the ordinary for you. Oh, and stop by Nakama’s desk in HR, he’s got your replacement employee badge ready for you. What is this— the third one already this year, Yoko?”  
  
Ryo tsked as he shot Yoko a look that managed to be both amused and chastising at the same time. “No, no. It’s only the second,” Yoko was quick to reply as he scooped up his files and followed Ryo out the door. “Uh huh,” Ryo returned, his skepticism obvious in the delivery. “One more time and you’re paying for all the drinks at the next office nomikai.”  
  


***  
 

Yoko tucked himself further into the shade offered by the narrow row of trees lining the perimeter of the gardens on the Inoue family property, wrapping his tail loosely around his body as he settled in to wait out the remaining time until his meeting with Maru. When you opted to live inside a city as sprawling as the Osaka metro area, you found that you had to cling to and nurture every little piece of nature made available to you. The fact that the Inoue property parallelled the Nintoku Kofun didn’t hurt in that aspect, instead adding to the illusion that the home was more isolated from the mayhem of the city. As much as he enjoyed going around otherwise and “playing human”, there was always something both fantastically liberating and centering about reverting to his natural form. Besides, Yoko figured when confronted with something in this day and age that actually _pre-dated_ him, it was only proper to rid himself of his own illusions as he paid his respects to those en-housed there and the mysteries of the past which they held.  
  
The waters surrounding the massive tomb were still and languid, as though they too were being stifled by the summer heat. Yoko toyed with the idea of sneaking off for a quick swim in them before allowing his attention to be drawn to a small jizo across the yard, neatly tucked back into the shadowy tree line and covered with a modest growth of moss. While it wasn’t unheard of for the small statues to be found on the lands of a private residence (after all, they could very well date back to before the home was constructed here), something about the air of the statue bothered him-- almost as though it was mocking him. Yoko narrowed his eyes as he appraised it from afar, shrinking further under the tree at the rustling sound of footsteps approaching through the grass. A pair of feet appeared to the right and paused for a moment before continuing across the yard, pausing again in the middle to peruse the treeline and yard. Spotting something across the lawn, the person made their way over towards the jizo, finally coming fully into Yoko’s view.  
  
Relaxing, Yoko watched the tall man crouch down and move aside a branch to better see the slightly rotund statue. It had been a few years since Yoko had last worked face-to-face with Maruyama and his hair was now considerably shorter than before, but aside from that he still looked remarkably the same. Maru leaned closer to the jizo as he pondered its face up close.  
  
“Nee, Purin, Kimi wa minna ni sukareteru koto shitteru?” A low voice softly half sang to statue as he looked it over. Yoko took this as his cue and uncurled himself, sticking his head out of the shadows as he barked back at him.  
  
“Maru, you idiot, you _know_ I haven’t used that code in years.”  
  
Maruyama jumped a little at the sudden, disembodied voice before zeroing in on the long white fox emerging from beneath the trees.  
  
“I know, Yoko,” Maru replied back in hushed tones after regaining his bearings. “ but I always liked that one.”  
  
Yoko jerked his head toward the statue. “What’s up with the jizo? Seems a little out of place here.”  
  
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before, and I’ve done guard duty around here often enough that I’d like to think I would have noticed it.” Once again Maru pushed the branches back to better see it, allowing Yoko his first up-close view of the statue as well. It certainly wasn’t the strangest jizo Yoko had ever seen, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was that seemed off about it—at least not until he zeroed in on the small flask nested at its feet, a weather-worn ハ on the front. Sitting back on his haunches with a short huff, Yoko dropped his guard, watching as Maru reached forward to grab the statue.  
  
“I really wouldn’t touch that if I were you. I mean, there’s no telling where it’s been or what animal might’ve pissed on it.” Yoko quipped, all the while eyeing the jizo.  
  
“Well fuck you, too, Kimitaka.” The voice seemed to come out of nowhere, causing Maru to jump about 6 feet backwards from the statue, landing hard and toppling backwards onto his butt. He looked around frantically for the owner of the voice as he scrambled back against a tree in the yard and stood up again, only to wind up staring at a suddenly enraged fox as he gestured and sputtered at the small garden-side statue.  
  
“Oi!! Oi!! OI!!! _You_ still owe me for running out on the tab three years ago at that izakaya!!”  
  
“Oh come on, it cannot have been high enough for you to still be bitter about it after this long.” The phantom voice shot back dismissively.  
  
“One hundred and eighty dollars, bitch. ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY. You drink top shelf all night long, order half of everything on the menu, eat ALL of the korokke, and then disappear entirely while you’re supposedly on a bathroom run. You know what I drank that night? Beer. Not even fancy imports. IT WAS DOMESTIC!! AND YOU STUCK ME WITH A $180 TAB YOU LOUSY TANUKI!!” and with that Yoko delivered a well-timed kick to the statue’s backside, resulting in a sudden cloud of grey colored smoke to explode in its place and a sharp yelp of pain.  
  
“Yokooooooo~” the voice whined, this time rising from behind the smoke. “Dammit, that hurt!! What the hell!” As the cloud dissipated Maru and Yoko were greeted with the sight of a body sprawled on the ground where the statue had been, long limbs splayed everywhere, a thick fall of chestnut brown hair curtaining his face as he looked down, simultaneously pushing himself of the ground and rubbing his bruised behind. The man looked up sharply at Maru before turning to glare at Yoko, his face a mix of crooked features and an air of lethargy that should never work together, but on him they blended perfectly into devilish seduction.  
  
“Put some damn clothes on you hedonist,” Yoko snapped back at him before materializing his cellphone from nowhere and deftly flipping it open and dialing with his paws. The other man suddenly materialized a pile of clothes and rifled through it for a phone of his own as it started to ring.  
  
“You forgot to mention that we had competition on this job, Nishikido,” Yoko snapped.  
  
“No, I didn’t. We only found out about Ohkura after I arrived here. Apparently Maruyama has some Kyoto connections who were just as interested in his well-being as we were and they hired Ohkura out to work for them. I met with them earlier and we agreed to pick up and oversee Ohkura’s contract for this as well, so he’s now working as a sub-contractor for us on this. You still have seniority, though, which he should be being made aware of as we speak. This isn’t going to be a problem for you, is it?”  
  
“No.” Yoko glanced over at Tadayoshi, now clothed, still on his own phone nd glowering as menacingly as he possibly could while telling whoever was on the other end of the line that he completely understood and would do as they wished. “No, I think this will work out just fine. Thanks for the update, Ryo.” Yoko ended the call and vanished his phone before turning back to the tanuki.  
  
“You. Money. Now.”  
  
“Yoko, you know I never carry that kind of money when I’m out on a job. I swear though, I _will_ pay you back though, I really do swear.”  
  
“You know, Tadayoshi, you’d better, otherwise I’ll just get Murakami in bookkeeping to dock your pay.”  
  
“You wouldn’t dare.”  
  
“What do you think?” Yoko smugly replied, flashing a charming smile before turning back to Maru.  
  


***  
 

“So, ok, I thought Inari only worked with kitsune?” Maru asked Yoko later that night as they prowled through the club they would be replicating for tomorrow night’s job, nodding his head in the direction of the third member of their party as he perused the bar’s liquor selections.  
  
“Not really, though for a long time it _was_ the case that we had an all-kitsune staff. Now-a-days, though, we have a number of non-kitsune employees and freelancers, as well as quite a few human personnel working with us.” Back in his human form, Yoko paced out the dimensions of the room, making notes on tatami weaves and specific paper door patterns. “I will admit, though, much as I like to bitch about Tacchon, he does his job better than any other tanuki I know.”  
  
“Flattery will get you everywhere, darling,” Tacchon called back to them while holding up a couple of bottles of Jameson 18 year and Patron Platinum. “So, what are Inari’s views on helping ourselves to a couple of pre-showdown offerings?”  
  
“Put them back, Tacchon.”  
  
“Boring.” Tadayoshi sighed as he replaced the bottles. “That said, it doesn’t look like this will be too difficult a job to pull off, especially since we’ve worked together before.” Catching the look of inquiry on Maru’s face, Tacchon continued, “Whenever you have more than one individual casting an illusion as elaborate as this one, it always helps to have them all be on the same page as far as timing, details and transitions. Which isn’t so much of an issue if you’re working with a group of your own kind, but that whole ‘hive mind’ concept isn’t as strong when you’re dealing with a cross-species situation like this.” Throwing his arm around Yoko’s shoulder and flopping his weight against him, Tacchon batted his eyelids at him. “Fortunately, Kimi-kun here has had ample experience with us tanuki, so getting on the same wavelength as him isn’t as difficult.”  
  
Rolling his eyes and casting a baleful look at Tacchon, Yoko unceremoniously shoved his arm off of himself, letting the other flop gracelessly to the floor. “Have you started drinking already?”  
  
“No?” He offered unconvincingly, tucking his ハemblazoned flask further into his coat pocket. Maru stepped over and offered him a hand to assist him back up.  
  
“Out of curiousity, what do you have in there?”  
  
“What do you want it to be?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Tacchon passed the flask over to Maru who then opened it and took a cautious sniff at the contents, greeted by an aroma of citrus and sugar not unlike that of a lemondrop.  
  
“Really? XYZ?” Maru’s brows shot up as he took another whiff before passing it back to Tacchon.  
  
“XYZs, huh? That’s what you like, Maru?” Tacchon laughed lightly as he recapped the bottle and placed it back inside his jacket. “It’s actually whatever you want it to be, you know? Wine, vodka, cocktails of your choice, whatever the drinker wants it to be, that’s exactly what it is.”  
  
“Not, ” Yoko chimed in, “an all too unhandy thing to have around with you. Seriously though, does that thing ever run out? I can remember a couple nights of drinking ‘til dawn with you and it not running dry.” “Wouldn’t you like to know. And besides-- if you can remember those nights you clearly weren’t drinking enough for it to matter.”

  
***  
 

The night had been a long one, only starting with the casework in Kitashinchi and then followed by some prefatory spellwork on Inoue’s limousine and finalizing Maru’s portion of the job before he said his farewells and left to drop the vehicle back off at the Inoue garage. Afterward, Yoko and Tacchon turned their efforts to the more delicate task of crafting a reconstruction of the club and its surroundings that was completely in sync with what the other was thinking. Once theycould conjure the room accurately, it was time to move on to familiarizing themselves with the files about Inoue’s partners and the business dealings Maruyama had been able to gather information on. While Yoko had more than gotten used to the various levels of crime and debauchery that humans could stoop to over the past millennia, it was the simple stupidity of it all which never failed to amuse him. No matter how big a person or a corporation seemed to get, their downfall was almost always brought about by the same vices that could make the lowest of men fall: pretty girls, arrogance, and a little over-indulgence.  
  
He had taken far too much joy in informing Tacchon of that whole “pretty girls” nature of this particular job, delighting in the minor tantrum he threw at the realization that he was going to have to skirt up for this one. And as much as Yoko himself didn’t care for the cross-dressing, he had to agree that both of them did make a beautiful pair of girls. Not that he was cocky about it or anything, but there really was no point in denying facts. Yoko made one last check on his makeup, touching up his lipstick before tucking the tube away in his obi for the time being.  
  
As Inoue and his party approached the building, Yoko and Tacchon took the liberty of assessing the situation from their view out the window. He had two other men with him, a couple of middle-tier Yakuza bosses from what Maru had told them, and they made their way in through the entrance while Maru pretended to pull the car into the side before pulling back out onto the road and heading for the freeway ramp.  
  
“Let’s just hope he’s able to crack into that safe and get those promissory notes and files for us, otherwise this is going to get tricky,” Yoko mused.  
  
“Indeed. So, how do you want to handle the other two with Inoue? Just a basic distraction play?” Yoko glanced up at Tacchon, who was busy smoothing down the front of his apple-green kimono and making a couple of last minute touch-ups to his hair. He pondered the question for a second or two before making his decision.  
  
“Yeah, I think that’ll work best. As much fun as it could be taunting them more elaborately, I think it’s probably best to keep this one simple. Plus, I’ll be honest, I’m tired and the thought of spending another full night with you just might make me cry.”  
  
“Aww, I understand. After all, there’s nothing like being faced with your inadequacies as a woman to crush your spirit, right, Kimiko-chan? But you really shouldn’t let it get you down, I mean, not everyone can be as beautiful as I am.” Tacchon reached over and patted Yoko’s shoulder before turning him around to fluff up his obi bow. Yoko spun back around, his eyes narrow and cold as he backed Tacchon into the wall.  
  
“Bitch, I was playing Tayuu long before you even conjured up your first maiko skirts, so don’t for one second think that you can out-woman me. Now fix your juban, it’s slipping.”  
  
Tacchon planted his hands on Yoko’s chest and moved to shove him away as the sound of their guests approaching snapped their attentions back to the matter at hand. With a wave of his hand, the room was suddenly filled with five more girls, some in kimono, others in western gowns more common to the clubs of today. Seconds later the doors slid open and Inoue and his guests entered the room.  
  
“Irasshaimase, okyaku-sama.” The ladies in the room all turned in unison, greeting Inoue’s party and bowing formally. _Showtime_ Yoko thought as he raised his head to face his target.  
  


***  
 

Inoue himself wasn’t what Yoko would call strikingly attractive, yet he carried himself with a solid confidence that would be alluring to most women. He was educated, eloquent, and was clearly comfortable in his own skin which added to the appeal of his personality. Yoko decided that if he hadn’t have been such a corrupt jerk, he would have been someone even Yoko himself would have enjoyed hanging out with.  
  
It hadn’t taken much convincing for Tacchon and Yoko to draw Inoue away from his friends and the other girls, after all-- they had designed the other girls to be lesser versions of themselves for a reason: Inoue always insisted that he get the best girls any club had to offer, and when you were dealing with a fully vested kyuubi and a 300 year-old tanuki, no woman had the skill level to match them. The added undertones of the bickering and baiting between them only drew Inoue in further, as they allowed him to believe that he was the root of their competition.  
  
“Why don’t you sing something for us, Kimiko-chan?” Tacchon finally asked after a few hours of drinking and ego-stroking, Inoue more than on his way to relaxed and chatty. “I know you have such a lovely voice, and I would hate for Manabu-san to miss out on it?”  
  
Inoue turned to Yoko, eyebrows raised in interest as he reached over to play with the collar on his kimono. “You sing, Kimiko-chan? Won’t you sing for us?”  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry, what was that Tadako-chan? You want some senburi-cha instead of sake for this round? Here let me take care of that for you.” Yoko curtly ignored Inoue’s request and advances, waving the thought away with a pass of his hand down the side of the drunken man’s face, and with a quick snap of his fingers the liquid in the glass in front of Tachon switched from clear to murky green. “Drink up, everybody.” Yoko quickly raised his glass and toasted their customer’s fortune, leaving Tacchon no choice but to glare at Yoko as he lifted his own glass and drank before folding his hands demurely in his lap.  
  
It was no secret that owners and hostesses of the club had been well aware of _all_ of Inoue’s business ventures, making the conversation aspect of Yoko’s job much easier. Deciding that their target was well on his way past drunk, Yoko steered the talk back to the risky and dangerous aspect of Inoue’s work. Yoko signalled for another bottle of Yoichi as he allowed Tacchon to take the lead for a moment. One of the other girls from earlier left the room for a moment, returning with both the bottle and a small memo for Yoko. _Kawaikereba iin ja nai, amakereba iin ja nai. Daisuki sa purin~_ Yoko bit his lip and rolled his eyes, all he could do not to burst into laughter. Maru had gotten his part done. They had the paperwork.  
  
“But Manabu-san,” Tacchon continued, “aren’t you ever worried about someone turning you in or trying to sue you? I just wouldn’t know who I could trust if I were you.”  
  
“Oh but they do all the time Tadako-chan.” Inoue said, words starting to slur a bit as he once more emptied his glass. “Of course they always try, but they never get anywhere. I’ve got Matsuhara and Fukuda both locked up in my corner, with enough dirt on the both of them to ensure they’ll never get in the way. So whenever someone tries to cause problems for me I just get them to make any legal paperwork disappear, and my friends in less reputable places help to clean out the rats.”  
  
“Matsuhara at the D.A.’s office? That’s quite impressive. May I ask how Manabu-san managed to get him to work for you?” Yoko delicately reached across Inoue, brushing against his shoulder as he refilled the glass in front of him, eyes darting quickly to Tacchon, who moved offer the whisky to their guest, a dance of gesture and etiquette that had been performed by the two throughout the evening.  
  
“I know, right? I’ve known that brat since grade school, so once I moved back it was all too easy to catch him up in everything I had planned. Fukuda, too. And it really can’t hurt to have both the District Attorney _and_ Chief of Police in your corner for this kind of operation, right?”  
  
“Manabu-san really is a genius, isn’t he, Tadako?”  
  
“Indeed he is, Kimiko.”  
  
And at that they both stood up, suddenly back in their normal clothes and skin. Inoue blinked at both his sudden sobriety and the barren grey walls of the interrogation room he now found himself seated in, a glass and a pitcher of water on the table before him as the walls and decor of the club faded from his view.  
  
“What the— what’s going on here? Where did everyone go?” He tried to get up from his chair only to have Yoko casually step up and push him back down, perching gracefully on the edge of the plain metal-frame table as he loosened his tie a bit.  
  
“Inoue-san, I want to thank you so much for your time and for coming in to talk with us tonight, but most importantly, we would really like to thank you for your confession.” And at that Tacchon, pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his pants pocket, all too happy to slap one end on Inoue’s wrist and the other on the chair.  
  
“Aww, what’s the matter, Manabu-san? Not as smart as you thought you were?” Tacchon leaned closer to his face, leering at him and for a brief second, allowing the man a quick glimpse of his real face, sharp teeth flashing under the fluorescent lights.  
  
“Now, now, I think that’s all we need from you two.” The door behind them had opened and they were joined by three men, two uniformed officers and a detective who looked like he was more than happy to see this case come to an end, if only because he might now be able to get some sleep.  
  
“Detective Okada,” Yoko reached out his hand and accepted the handshake being offered by the man. “Always a pleasure to work with you and your men. Feel free to stop by for drinks next time you’re in town for something other than business.”  
  
“Sure thing, guys. Again, thank you. We were able to get everything recorded, as well as the files your friend brought us. We shouldn’t hit too many roadblocks now that we have these.”  
  


***  
 

Yoko groaned as the shrill chime of his cell phone pierced through his sleep like an ice pick jabbing at his ears. Unable to ignore it, he rolled over and grabbed for the phone, blindly jabbing at buttons until the speaker phone switched on.  
  
“WHAT?” Yoko glared at the readout on his alarm clock. _5:53 am_ “Somebody had better be dead.” He growled into the emptiness of the room.  
  
“Hey Yoko?” Ryo’s unrepentant and all-too-awake voice replied.  
  
“What?” “I need you to go to Tokyo. Yasuda’s having some trouble with one of the Shiseido scientists. Seems he’s developed an attachment to Yasu and keeps hanging around the shrine all day and serenading him....”  
  
Yoko just groaned and rolled over, letting the phone fall onto the bed as Ryo’s voice continued to fill the room. Was it really too much for him to ask for a little extra sleep?


End file.
